


Titanium

by papesdontsellthemselves



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Telekinesis, bad tags its fine, ill add characters and relationships as i go, oof, this gon be a fun one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 21:36:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17291879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papesdontsellthemselves/pseuds/papesdontsellthemselves
Summary: Telekinesis: noun-the supposed ability to move objects at a distance by mental power or other nonphysical meansTwo boys on the run from very different things share an identical yearning for a safe space.





	Titanium

**Author's Note:**

> with departed finished, lets get this bread with a new series. this time ralbert. and powers

Race’s shoes hit the pavement hard, fire ripping through his muscles as adrenaline drove him forward, almost causing him to trip from the force of it. His lungs screamed, begging him to stop for a moment to rest, to gather himself, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t. He rounded a corner, breath leaving him in short gasps as shouts from behind him echoed in his head.  
His apartment complex came into view and he froze. Red and blue flashing lights bounced around in his vision and it took every ounce of self control not to lose it there. It wouldn’t help him to panic. Not now. 

Strong emotions only made it worse. And it was already bad. Very bad.  
He swiped a finger under his nose, grimacing when it came away bloody. His head was still pounding, but he’d have to ignore it for now. Without wasting anymore time, he ducked into an alley, thankful that it was still light out and he could be carefully covered by passing crowds. His vision was starting to swim and he clenched his fists, trying to control himself.  
His knees gave out under him and he collapsed to the ground, shrugging his backpack off his shoulder simultaneously. He tucked his head between his legs, trying to calm his mind, but it wasn’t working.

Flashes of earlier that day cut through his mind, bringing the nausea and overwhelming fear back stronger than before. Seeing his father’s bloodshot eyes roll back in his head as he was suffocated, hearing his mother’s desperately fearful shouts, finally coming back to himself and watching as his father struggled for breath. The immediate guilt and realization that he was utterly screwed had enveloped him, crushing his lungs and rendering him completely powerless to his mind. The world had frozen as the room broke, his mother’s screams being the only thing that grounded him as debris whirled around him. He’d run at that point, leaving the mess behind, but bringing chaos with him. 

He’d expected it to come for quite some time; his breaking point. The moment everything became too much and he snapped, but he wasn’t equipped for the aftermath of when it finally did happen. And now police were on his tail from every direction, waiting to sniff him out and throw him to the dogs, keeping him as a specimen for a new experiment. He couldn’t handle it.  
Something wet in his ear brought him out of his reverie and he jumped violently, looking to the side to find himself face to face with a dog. He startled backwards, scooting away from it as it lunged forward, trying to cover him with more affectionate slobber.

“Queso, down! Queso, no, goddamnit,” A new voice from the mouth of the alleyway echoed off the surrounding walls.

Race’s eyes widened and he tried to push himself further against the brick as the owner of the voice approached, bending down to grab the collar of the dog.

“I’m really sorry about that,” The guy said. He looked around Race’s age, with bright red hair that curled at the nape of his neck, hidden haphazardly by a backwards snapback. His eyes were a shining hazel brown and he had hard facial features, causing him to look somewhat angry, although his tone was anything but.

“That’s, uh, that’s alright,” Race cleared his throat, wiping at his face hastily and running a shaking hand through his sweaty curls. 

The guy cocked his head, eyebrows furrowing in concern, “You alright? You’re bleeding.”

Race cursed, remembering his bloody nose. He swiftly brought the front of his shirt up to his face, attempting to staunch the flow with the fabric, “I’m fine,” he breathed, eyes scanning from the guy’s eyes to his jaw, where a large bruise was blossoming. His eyes traveled down even further to the guy’s exposed arms, where several hand shaped bruises, as well as an abundance of blisters, which Race recognized immediately as cigarette burns, were scattered unceremoniously.

He looked back at the guy’s face to find him watching him apprehensively, lip worried between his teeth.

Race raised his eyebrows, “Are you alright?”

The guy averted his eyes quickly, glancing down at the dog and scratching behind its ears, “M’fine.”

“What happened to you?” Race asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

The guy looked back at him, amusement glinting in his eyes, “I could ask you the same question.”

“Touche,” Race felt himself calming down, the tension in his head letting up ever so slightly. He reached out to run a hand over the curly fur on the dogs head, smiling when it tilted its nose back to lick at him, “What its name?”

“His name is Queso,” The guy kissed Queso’s back lovingly, “Little golden doodle boy.”  
Race scoffed, “He’s anything but little.”

“Yeah, but he’s a baby,” The guy said, somewhat defensively. He sat back on his heels, watching as Queso made his way over to Race, plopping down on his lap, “He likes you.”

“What can I say?” Race smirked, his usual confidence returning, “Everyone likes me.”

“You’re cocky,” The guy stated, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, “What’s your name?”

Race twitched his nose, holding out his non-bloody hand, “Race, you?”

The guy took his hand hesitantly, confusion etched on his face, “Race?”

“It’s a nickname.”

“Oh,” The guy nodded, “Am I gonna find out your real name?”

“Prolly not.”

“Alright, well, Race,” The guy chuckled, “I’m Albert.”

Race hummed, letting go of Albert’s hand, “Good to meetcha, Al.”

“So, what’re you doing in an alleyway?” Albert asked as Race nuzzled his forehead into Queso’s pelt, allowing his warm fur to drain the last of the tautness out of him. It was as if Queso could sense his predicament and wanted to offer comfort. 

“Uh,” Race felt a familiar sense of dread ignite in his stomach, “I was, uh,” he lifted his head, eyes darting to the entranceway.

“Running?” Albert supplied, mouth stretching into a grimace.

Race swallowed thickly, fixing his stare on the ground, “How’d you know?” he asked, quietly.

“I recognize the look,” Albert mumbled.

Race lifted his gaze, surveying Albert’s face. A flash of understanding sparked between them, a shared emotion of fear and loss.

“Are you running because,” Race trailed off and he gestured awkwardly to Albert’s jaw.  
Albert blinked and reached up to scratch at the back of his neck. He was uncomfortable, “Uh, yeah,” his tone indicated that he didn’t want to dwell on it, so Race didn’t push. When he spoke again, it was with a lighter resonance. The sudden change in demeanor jarred Race for a moment, but he shook his head, tuning into Albert’s words.

“Aye, you hungry? I know a place down the road that’s pretty good.”

Race shifted his jaw, sparing a glance down at his bloody shirt. He could still see police lights reflecting off the building adjacent to them and he shook his head, “I, uh, I can’t really be seen, man, I’m sorry. You can go ahead if you’re hungry.”

Albert looked to the side, realization dawning on his face, “Are those bitches after you?”

Race nodded, suddenly very interested in his shoelace.

“What did you do?” Albert whispered.

“Nothing,” Race grumbled.

“I mean, obviously something, but,” He cut himself off for a moment, casually shifting in front of Race as a police car patrolled by the entrance, “But you don’t gotta tell me. Listen,” he scrubbed a hand over his eyes, reaching up to tug at his hair for a moment as he thought, “This restaurant is really inconspicuous and I know the owner, so even if you don’t wanna eat anything, it’d give you a place to hide out at for a bit until they’re off your ass.”

Race ran a hand down Queso’s back, considering, “Okay, fine, yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Race said, standing and hoisting his backpack onto his back, “But let’s go that way,” he pointed to the other end of the alley, which led to a side street.

Albert nodded, reaching down to hook Queso’s leash back onto his collar, “Deal.”

XXX

The restaurant Albert brought Race to was a peaceful, hole in the wall type of place, with dim lighting and low tables. They were some of the only people there, but the food was good and Race appreciated Albert’s company.

He learned that the other boy was older than him by a year, having just turned 18, and he’d lived in Manhattan all his life. They went to the same high school in the inner city, but never crossed paths due to the age gap. 

Queso was sleeping soundly at their feet and Race learned that Albert had found him wandering the streets a little over two months ago and decided to bring him home. He was already incredibly well trained, but had a few questionable scars indicating that the home he’d escaped from was no kinder than Albert’s. 

Talking to Albert was easy. They clicked in a way Race hadn’t experienced before and he found himself falling into a comfortable rhythm with the other boy. Their humor was similar and they bantered seamlessly, allowing Race to forget, for a moment, the previous events of that day, which already seemed lightyears away.

However, as Race had grown to learn recently, good things never last, and their peace was brutally interrupted by sudden police sirens wailing directly outside the restaurant. Race and Albert only had a moment to exchange panicked looks before officers were bursting through the door, commanding everyone on the premises to put their hands behind their heads.

“Which one of you is Antonio Higgins,” One of the masked SWAT officers barked, gun hoisted threateningly in front of him.

Race’s legs wobbled as a cold wave of fear ran through his body. He could feel Albert’s eyes on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look, or even move. He was glued to the spot, intense consternation paralyzing him.

The officer’s eyes landed on him and the back of Race’s throat burned with nausea as another flash of terror gripped him. He started to shake, eyes darting as he tried to find an escape, but he was stuck. Utterly frozen to the spot. There was no way out. He was screwed. He was going to get taken and then what was going to happen to him? What were they going to do to him? He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t-

A familiar tension spread from his neck to the crown of his head and he blinked forcefully as pressure gathered behind his eyes. His hands were vibrating uncontrollably at this point and he screwed his eyes shut, unmatchable energy traveling like a hot flash up his arms and landing in his chest. 

He brought his elbows in close to his body, an involuntary shout tearing out of his throat as the world around him exploded, force emanating from his body and radiating like a shockwave around him. The sound in his head was replaced with an intense buzzing and he opened his eyes, only briefly acknowledging the damage of the area around him. Tables were turned on their sides and chairs were broken in half. Pieces of broken plates and glasses were littered across the floor, creating a blanket of rubble. Race let out a sob as his eyes seemed to reverberate in their sockets. Albert was standing next to him, mouth wide open in shock. He and Queso seemed unharmed, and Race only took a moment to wonder if his subconscious had protected them. Race swallowed his pain and grabbed Albert’s hand, pushing through the pile of unconscious police and SWAT officers before hopping through the hole where the door to the restaurant used to be. They ran for several blocks, Queso on their heels as they weaved in and out of clueless pedestrians until the weight was unbearable and Race collapsed, coughing brutally, against an old building. He gingerly felt at his nose, sighing when his finger came back bloody again.

“Bro,” Albert panted, doubling over and pushing away Queso as she tried to nuzzle his leg. A million questions were buried in his eyes, veiled only by intense fear, “What the fuck.”

**Author's Note:**

> oof so that's chap 1,,, stay tuned!!


End file.
